The Recovery
by qsmadness007
Summary: Part three in my Eberts kidnapped trilogy
1. Default Chapter

The Recovery  
by ohfan007  
  
Author's note : This is part three in a trilogy, which starts with "The Kidnapping" and continues with "The Rescue." and now it is time for part three. I never really expected it to be a trilogy, it just happened. I know, unfortunately, that the trilogy may end up with four parts, hopefully I am able to wrap everything up here, as I do not want to bore people with the lenght of the story. There are many threads to still unravel in this story, so hopefully I can get everything said that is left in this twenty one part story. I apologize for those who like short stories for the lenght, I just want people to enjoy the story though. And since I am a writer by nature, I will try to make less shorter stories for those who feel overwhelmed by many words. I have many more ideas, and this story will most certaintly not be the last Invisible man story I write.Okay, sorry for rambling. I have decided not to do a recap at the beginning of this part like I did the second part. If you need one, you can email me at ohfan007@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, well, most of them aren't mine, The invisible Man characters belong to scifi, Lucrezia De Vere belongs to my friend DeFohnFemme,anyother characters do belong to me. This mostly includes the minor characters, Ebert's roommates, and friends, and family, etc.(excluding George Fradley who doesn't belong to me either)  
  
Dedication: This series is dedicated to God, the cast of Invisible Man, my family, and my two iman buddies DefohnFemme, and Jordan_radcliffe  
  
Part 1  
All the Leaves are Brown, and the Sky is Gray  
  
All my coworkers must believe I am daft. Okay, so they would not say it in that way. Robert would say I have lost my marbles, -or- flipped my cork,(depending on the mood he is in, -or- if hes taken his pills,) Darien would probably call me loony,(because he lacks for a better word at this moment,) Alex call me a nut,(just because she likes to call people nuts, so she doesn't have to talk to them, not like we do that much anyway,) the Official say straight out I have lost my mind, (he has a thing for trying to be truthful, I emphasize trying, because he has developed this talent for talking in circles, to screw with people.)I don't know what Claire would say though, I guess it doesn't matter. The truth of the matter is I always was crazy, just not as they saw it. I am always the quiet little mouse, but ever since I started laughing like a mad man after Arnaud's first treatment of torture, electricution, I feel free to do what ever I want.So, since their is no one here to torment with my madness, I am sitting here staring at the wall.  
  
This room is boring me, I want to get out, I want to do something. I want to know why when two of my friends, Bennie, and Rich came to visit, they would not tell me what Jaden had done. They hinted he did something and then they won't tell me. They must not want to upset me.(They treat me like a bloody child child sometimes, like everything bad needs to be hidden from me, just because I almost axed myself out once, -or- twice.(They even removed the locs on my door, when we first moved in, that's how much they trust me to have privacy) )I hope he didn't wreck my car, he promised he wouldn't. That 'forty nine Mercury is almost like a child to me, I love that car. Oh, wait, I didn't let him borrow that, I let him borrow my silver Astin Martin, I do hope he didn't ruin my british beaut. That is probably what he did do. I knew I should have only bought one car, that little black toyota, but I have an obsession with cars, I do not know much about them, mechanically, (I am a computer geek, not an engine specialist), but I love them. I hope my coworkers don't find out I have anything other than the little Toyota, it looks highly supicious for a government employee to have six cars. They wouldn't believe I had inheirted five of them, they are too supicious to care for the truth, especially Robert.Claire might though, she has known me since high school, though we aren't exactly friends. I have never quiet figured out why we don't talk much, though the underlying cords of friendship are there, I wonder if it is because she found out I had a crush on her in high school. Maybe she just thinks I am strange. What do I know about women, they haven't exactly been the easiest puzzle for me to solve in my life.(I am still trying to figure out what's wrong with my sister after all these years.She has a lot of screws loose, but I shall not get into that)  
  
I hear the doors open, and I turn to see Claire walk in. "Hello, Eberts, how are you feeling?"  
  
"I'm feeling okay, I guess, I can see now, but the wounds still hurt a little." I am trying to play, "I am mostly better", I figure I can get out of this room sooner. I want to go home, and paint, -or- at least have the option to sleep in my own bed, instead of this stiff hospital bed.   
  
The phone beeps on the table near the wall. She goes to get it. "Yes... no he hasn't...I can try to bring the phone over to him, I don't think it will stretch that far...no, I will not allow him to get up and get it...yes...there is..okay.." I wonder who she was talking to I get the impression, I have a phone call though. I could just get up and get it from there, but I do not think she will allow that. I watch her squat down,(she looks cute like that) and pull something out from under the cabinet, in one of the drawers. I turn away, it is impoliet to stare, and connectrate on the boring corner of the wall, I had been staring at before.It is still there, with the same little hole where the paint is chipping. I knew it would be.  
  
I hear her come towards me, with something, she had attached the phone to a longer phone cord. "You have a phone call from someone in the FBI."  
  
The Fbi what in the world could they want. "Thanks." I press the line one button. "Hello."   
  
The Official answers. "Good, she got the phone to you, I will transfer this call to you, I do not know how your friends keep getting my number and calling me."  
  
"I don't know." I really do know, but will never tell him. I hear a loud click in my ear, and the phone on the other end rings.  
  
"Hello?" I hear a famillar voice say. A friend I have known since college. Though we disagree on a few things, like sexual preference, its great to hear from him.  
  
"Hey, Georgie."  
  
"Hey, Albie, Richard called and told me what happen, so how are you?"   
  
"I have been better.Bored out of my mind. How are you?" I begin to stare at the numbers on the phone, I need some paper and a pen to sketch soon, -or- I will die of boredom and soon.I think I would rather have died at Arnaud's place, at least I was doing something, if you can call fighting for your life, and freedom, just something.  
  
"Well, things are slow here, and I am okay I guess. But I think I should be more concerned about you then you are about me." George answers, I catch the sadness in his voice. I wonder what Rich did to him, his Rich, not our friend Agent Smith.  
  
"What happened between you and Rich? Another fight?"  
  
"I can't ever hide anything from you, not exactly.... he.." He doesn't finish because someone is talking to him in the background. I hear him muffle the phone. "I will be just a minute, Bailey. " I hear a muffled reply that sounds like. "Okay, but you have to pay for it." I hear George reply back. "I know, I will, " I can almost see him and his boss, Bailey this whole time.George with his hand over the phone, and Bailey peeking over his shoulder. "Tell him, we wish him a speedy recovery." I hear Bailey muffle. I can see George nodding to this. He works with some good people, I met them once, when I had to run an errand in Atlanta for the Official. George had asked me to stop by and see his work place. I don't see how they can deal with such psycho people, (not his coworkers, the people they track),but they're all pretty nice.(yes, the coworkers are nice, not the psychos) Except this one guy, John, I think he thought because I was one of George's friends, I don't know which side of the ocean, to find my fish.Though I can see why, a lot of George's friends are that way. I listen as George unmuffles the phone. "You still there, Albie?"  
  
"Yavole. Tell Bailey, I said thank you for the good wishes."  
  
"Okay, I will,when he comes back, I can't believe you heard that."  
  
"Remember I am the supersonic Sky Masterson." I say with a smile.  
  
He laughs.It is an old joke from college.We were in a production of "Guys and Dolls" together, at one of those little playhouse, near campus. "I would think by now your hearing would not be so good. You are getting old now."  
  
"You're not so young, Nathan Lane." I remark.  
  
He laughs again. "True, True, Sky, but I still keep my markers good."  
  
I chuckle a little. "Right, Right, so what happened with Rich?"   
  
"Let's just say Rich is out of the picture,...why don't you tell me what happened today? Richard only gave me little details."  
  
"That's because he only got a little details,little punk switched accents on me fifty times,"I am exaggerating, but he knows this." I guess I can tell you, because I really doubt you know of anyone in Atlanta, who doesn't need to find out. But remember I am only telling you because you live in another state. I will hunt you down, if anyone who doesn't need to know, finds out."  
  
He laughs nervously, he knows I am serious. But he won't tell anyone anyway. He knows how psycho I am about details of my life, ever since that report tried to stalk me, when I was a field agent. I am not a celebrity, I am entitled to privacy.  
  
(More to come)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. ch. 2

Part 2  
Case Subject: Eberts, Albert B.  
  
Trying to figure out what is wrong with Eberts is trying to a germ culture for the very first time in biology class, but not listening to the teacher, -or- cracking open your book once.He seems in a way like the exact model for a man after tragedy who would suffer what we in the know call PTSD, -or- post tramatic stress disorder. I have seen none of the classic sympthoms displayed as of yet.He is not guilty about being alive still, well he probably shouldn't be displaying that sympthom, though every time Alex comes near him, he puts her on a guilt trip about being a big hero. It is kind of amusing, after all the pushing around she does of everyone, but I would never tell her that.He is not plagued with dreams -or- nightmares about the incident, the little times I have gotten him to go to sleep. He says he is exhausted but doesn't want many drugs to help him sleep. Though his back aches, and keeps him awake. He will not heed my advice that he needs to rest, maybe I can get him to listen to me after his phone call from his friend in the FBI.  
  
The Official is not a big fan of the FBI, and everyone knows it especially Eberts, so when someone from their has enough odadious and security clearance to call, we run the call through, oh course, I can see the Official sitting on his desk listening in, he wants to make sure no one tries and persuades any of our people to join them. It would not suprise me, if one of them did try this little trick, we are very underpaid, and underfunded, it is easy for them to dangle money in our faces, and most of us would probably accept it. After things like this, when words get around about mistakes we made, you can bet one of the FBI will call. I really do not think Eberts should be permitted phone calls at this stage, he is extremelly stressed, and a bit over the edge. When the call came though, I had to let it through, The Official wants to know how much they are offering Eberts.  
  
I am looking at Eberts medical records, it took me an hour to have the Official unseal the whole thing. It seems Eberts has a history of psychological problems, not as bad as Hobbes, but he has suffered deep bouts of depression. One time in college, he had locked himself in his dorm room, and tried to hang himself. That doesn't suprise me, yet it does. I knew him in high school, and then like he is now, he was quiet, but he seemed relatively happy. I am wondering now if that is a facade he wears. I hear a small chuckle behind me, I listen closer. Eberts is joking about something he did in college.The FBI agent obviously knows what he is talking about. Maybe I can get some answers from him, I wonder if the Official is tracing the call. I will go see.  
  
"Eberts, Sweetheart, I will be right back."   
  
Eberts nods.  
I depart through the sliding door, and walk down the cold hallway. I have never liked these hallways, something about the linoleum tiles freaks me out, and I enter into the official's mostly empty, and airy office.He has his phone pressed against his ear. I knew he would though. He drops the phone on the desk, when I come in. He picks it up and hangs it up guiltily.  
  
"Spying on your assistant, that's not very nice." I say in a joking manner. I know the answer to this already, and I really do not have to ask.  
  
"Listening, why would I be listening?" He says, trying to be innocent, but he can't hide it.  
  
"Afraid he may be taken by the FBI." I tell him, I sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk. I cross my legs.   
  
"Yes, in a way, this friend of his is one, I always catch him playing battleship with when I go into his office. It would be very easy for the high up to drop a buzz in his ear about hiring Eberts." The Official truthfully admits. He really is worried about losing Eberts, Eberts does a lot of good work around here. Though it is odd, how only at times like this, we realize his worth.  
  
"So, you know where the call is coming from?" I want to make this as short as possible, I am not in the mood for smalltalk.   
  
"Atlanta, VCTF division, -or- something. Some little subdivision." The Official comments. He glares at me. "Why?"  
  
"I was thinking I can ask him some questions about Eberts, maybe it will help determine what is going through his head, he isn't talking much to anyone here." I am sure he can answer a lot of questions, that Eberts will not answer us, because he is not the most open person in the world to any of us. I think it may because the official has him on such a short leash. He is a very well trained circus seal, when he needs to be.  
  
"He never talks to anyone much here." The Official comments. He pulls a slip of paper out. "Here's the number, I hope it helps."  
  
"Thank you." I say and head back to the lab.  
  
  



	3. ch. 3

Part 3  
I rather be in Paris  
  
Arnaud has definetly flipped his lid, but in a way now, I see what he means about this Eberts character to be a worthy lackey. I can't give him any credit past that, because anyone who would willingly work for a US government agency, has got to be a tad bit buggy, especially anyone who would willing work for Internal Revenue, and especially that evil man known as The Official. I mean sure when he was a field agent he had one of the highest ratings for marksmanship, a ninety seven I believe, but he hasn't been in the field for at least two years. Except for that one time, when he went with Fawkes, and Hobbes, and he was knocked out by Arnaud. Tha man is pathethique, all he will ever amount to is a petit souris. And now, I am suppose to seduce him to "the dark side." I still favour a strong possibilty that he doesn't know which side of the bread the butter goes on. He has more than one friend like that, and there is this one that concerns me. A computer geek who works for the FBI, what is that old proverb about mice in the same nest -or- something.The thing is with people so simillar, it doesn't suprise me if they share the same sexual peference. If, I find out he is a poove, is Arnaud going to seduce him himself, now there's something that would make my day, I don't thinking I would not be able to stop laughing for weeks.  
  
I need to learn to get inside his head, what makes this guy tick, so I can tell which kind of woman will work best. I've looked through his file and every picture I have seen of him when he is with a female, they all have different looks, and from what I can gather they have nothing in common. Except perhaps all of them are beauties, not like we can really uncover many pictures. It is not like he is the President -or- a Senator whom is photographed a lot. The events where the pictures are taken vary, and he is listed as an artist in some, a musician in some, and a government agent in other. He has a fairly small trail in each areas, and I don't believe many of his contacts believe he to be anything beside what hes posing as at the time. He's almost like a chaemeleon blending into his surroundings.   
  
Is that it? Is that his potential? Now, that I think about he does have potential in that field, and the videos show he has a strong temper. I do admit he has potential. It is very small. Its going to take a lot of work to seduce him to the our side. His shields are heavy, and he is a very supicious person.So, what kind of woman will satisfy this little mousey man, if he does like women. This is going to require much surveillance, and I probably can't get to him right now. Its been a long day, and its only five in the evening. I am not going to be able to get to him today, they probably have him heavily guarded. They don't want Arnaud to come back, and get him. Too bad, they won't know I will be coming. I am coming to get him, to turn him against them. They will be on the look out for Swiss men, -or- terrorist. They shouldn't suspect a beautiful woman. I can't let my guard down though, I maybe supicious to them if I am right about him, and Arnaud was wrong. I need to get in touch with that Fibbie, he will know probably. But for now, I sit above the chamber door, I am the Raven and I can wait forevermore.  
  
  



	4. ch. 4

Part 4  
I had too much dream last night.  
I am almost to the end of my narration, when Georgie cuts me off. "We just got a case, I need to go, I would like to hear the rest though. It sounds terrifying, and I do hope you are okay. Please don't go wacko on us like you did in junior year." He sounds sympathic, but it doesn't bother me. I know hes worried about me.  
"I'll be fine, go get that killer." I tell him in a normal voice, I had been talking in hushed tones to tell him the stories. Their are ears everywhere, whom I don't want the sympathy from, I already know the Official was listening in. A few minutes after Claire left, he dropped the phone, I know for a fact he probably wasn't tired of listening, she probably walked in on him while he was "talking with someone important"  
"Thanks. Call me later okay, actually, I better call you. This may run long." I know if it runs a few days hes going to have "the voodoo pin of worry." lodged into his brain. Probably going to be drinking coffee non stop and drive research insane. I wish I can see it. Knowing my luck he will get his chance in the field, wait that may be interesting. Bailey will probably kill him though, -or- keep him far from coffee, after he startes the twenty-five cups in one hour.  
"Okay, don't drink too much coffee."  
"You just been tortured and you are worrying about me drinking too much coffee."   
"Yeah, don't okay, I will tell you the rest of the story, you know that, so don't get all stressed out over there about me. And don't worry about Rich, he'll probably come crawling back on his knees, begging for forgiveness, just concentrate at the matter at hand. Tracking that serial killer."  
"Okay, " I can see him with a little, tight smile as he hangs up the phone. He always does that during times of crisis. Its like me with my worried expressions. Which I am very good at for some reason.  
I look vainly around the room for a clock, I know their is one around here somewhere. I have forgotten where, I think I spent too much time staring at that damn spot in the wall. Its still in front of my eyes. Out damn spot out, get out of my eyesight. I shake my head. I amuse myself too much sometimes. Out damn Spot out, what has the torture made me become Lady MacBeth. I sure hope not. I don't think that would be any fun, I would probably be an ugly woman, at least George would stop making me so bloody uncomfortable by kissing me on the lips everytime we meet. He knows how much I hate it, but we have an understanding, he doesn't hit on me and send me any emails -or- videos, describing -or- showing what he and Rich are up to, and I don't ask questions, unless they are having a fight -or- something and he needs to vent. We have always been there to vent to each other. I glance at the clock the hands point at 5:30, then I realize it means nothing to me because I can't even prove we are on the same day, as when I was kidnapped. If it really is the same day, then this must be the slowest day ever, unless we are really in Alaska, and its part of the sixmonth day, but I doubt that.It may be fun in Alaska though, I have always like the cold. I always wanted it to see it snow here, and throw a big snowball at the Fat Man. I would probably have to run for my life, but I knew once he had a security guard catch me, (there is no way he can catch me, he is like a turtle when he runs,) I would at least die laughing my head off. I can just see that and hear the loud ploop as it knocks his glasses off his face. I don't know why I have the urge to hit him in the face, but it seems like the best place to hit him. I start laughing. It is not the evil laughter, I had been doing before, though that was fun in a way, it was a soft chuckling.   
I need some sleep. I close my eyes. That is when it dawns on me, what if Arnaud comes back, to torture me some more. My eyes snap open, and I begin staring at the door, waiting for to appear to open by itself. It will definetly look that way when Arnaud comes through it. I hear a small whine as the door opens, I grab hold of the edge of the bed, bracing myself. I close my eyes.  
"Are you okay, Eberts?" Claire asks.  
I open my eyes. I breathe a mental sigh of relief. "I am fine, just tired." He will becoming though, I can feel it deep inside.  
(more to come)  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. ch. 5

Part 5  
And through a fractal on that breaking wall..   
  
When I come back into the lab, Eberts is ending the conversation with his friend, he cradles the phone gently, and places it close to the edge of the bed. The rails are not up, so I expect to hear it come crashing to the floor any second. I look over at it but it is balanced evenly.He gets farther under the covers, and closes his eyes. I am not sure if its the medication still in, -or- if he really is tired. He looks peaceful like that, and I hope he remains that way. I would hate to see him pained, if he begins to have recurring nightmares of that. I can still hear the screams from the video echoing in the back of my head.I walk cautisouly to the bed, and remove the phone.He opens his eyes, when he hears the phone being lifted."Hi," He says, innocently.  
  
"Hi, how are you feeling, sweetheart?" I tilting my brown eyes toward his blue ones.  
  
He gives me a weak smile. "I have been better."  
  
"You look tired. Why don't you get some sleep?" His eyes appear puffy, and red, and he looks as if he hasn't slept for a while.  
I wonder what is going through his mind. It is so hard to tell. Alex told me about his strange laughter earlier, but does Eberts have evil in him. That seems so unlike him.Could he actually have evil in him, that seems so odd coming from this little mousey man. I don't think he would hurt anyone, and it is hard to believe, I have heard of people going crazy after torture, but their had always been some glimmer of this before.But Eberts, he has never had a glimmer of evil, he always just been a shy little mouse, following by the book.He had attacked Hobbes earlier though, I wonder how long that has been building up. It is no suprise though, how little respect Hobbes gives to Eberts. What am I saying, I really doubt that Eberts would take offense to that, everyone does that to him sometimes. Well, I don't think he would take offense. Maybe he does. Now, I am confusing myself, stop jumping to conclusions Claire.  
  
"Okay, I will, but Claire will you do me a favor?"  
  
"What is it?" Why do I have a sudden feeling he is going to ask me if he can kill me? Claire, you're losing it, I think if you can handle Darien on QSM, you can handle tortured Eberts when he only wants to ask you a question. It is probably harmless. Eberts is harmless.  
  
"Can you not give me anymore drugs?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Please, I know under the hypocratic oath, it says something about not ahrming anyone, and if you give me anymore drugs, it will harm me.Please, Claire?" His blue eyes plead up at me. He looks so lost, so scared, and in a way I want to believe him. He has been through enough as it is, maybe I can for now.  
  
I put on my "serious doctor, I know what's best" face. "I will let you hold out as long as I think you can without medication, but if I feel you need it, I can hold it from you."  
  
The corners of his mouth go down a little bit.It looks kind of cute, almost like a scolded child who doesn't realize the seriousness of his punishment, but only a tiny portion of what it entitles. "I guess that is fair." His eyes look so sad, how can anyone refuse that cute face anything? Oh, my gosh, did I just think that, am I falling for Eberts? I must be losing my mind. Not that there is anything wrong with Eberts, its just. Bloody hell, it just seems weird, I have known him since high school. I never once thought of him like that, hes almost a brother. He reminds me a bit of Kevin though, he is almost the type I am attracted too. And now that I think of it I did have a crush on him in high school. I need to get a grip though, now is not the time to think of romantic involements.  
  
I nod to him. "Now, get some rest."I give him a concerned smile.  
  
"I'll try." He says. He closes his eyes. "Good night, Claire." He murmurs.  
  
I kiss the top of his forehead. "Goodnight, ALbert."  
  



	6. ch. 6

Part 6  
I left my mind laying somewhere in the sands in time.  
  
Arnaud taps on my door. "How's it going?" He is wearing a latex suit in close proximity with his normal self. It pains me a little. I have missed seeing him like that, but I am mad at him, and he is trying to make me unmad, and to see hes right about this. He will try to convince Eberts will be a good allie, -or- something to that effect. I know how his mind works. He plays nervously with the pin striped suit around his neck. I get the sudden urge to choke him with it, but I can't do that. He doesn't deserve that, yet.He clears his throat. It is amusing when he does.He sounds like he has a little mouse in his throat and is about to cough it up, and let him roll out.  
  
"What do you want, De Theil?" I ask angerly. He gives a little frown. His usual reaction to me calling him that. I love to see that reaction. It is so cute when the little sharp corners of his mouth, drift down towards his elegant french chin, poutingly. His eyes drifting downward, so that he is looking at the bottom of you eyes, he is still looking in your eyes, just not fully,and his eyes appear glassy.He appears almost as a child who has gotten a toy taken away,because it is too dangerous.I have to restrain myself from laughing at it everytime, he is so cute when he does that.  
  
"I ...want...I..think you may be right, and....I was wondering if you found out if you were right, and if you think Eberts will work." He says leaning against the doorframe.He must be bored. That's not really want he means, he wants things to be back to normal, so we can share a bed tonight. He knows it and I know it. I have missed him, and I am sure hes missed me too. He doesn't think I am right. I really have nothing to prove I am right, just a feminine hunch, and he knows that right now.Though, I ususally never am wrong about my hunches. He knows this, too.  
  
"I haven't found anything to prove he is a fairy, but it usually is hard to find on paper, and I think he may work well..." I watch him start to smile. "As an assisstant. He really has no potential as a protegee, just someone to help on a few cases. He has very little training, and his background is too upper crusty. He has never done anything extremelly bad, he's always lived in his perfect little bubble...." I am about to go on, when Arnaud approaches me.  
  
"Lucrezia!! What are you going blind? I know I didn't put any chemical in your eyes for that! He has almost the same kind of background, the always been protected from the wrong in the world as you did! He has that rebellious nature in him, though, and we ignited it. He is able to have it fully come out, and think of the great things he can help us overcome! He wouldn't be an equal partner like us, but he could help us! We can finally get into the agency, and get this damn gland out of my head, and reign terror on the world, don't you see, my dear, Lucy?" I wonder if he is going to start shaking me. I have the sudden urge, he may, but he doesn't. He stands smiling over me, as I sit on the floor among Eberts files.  
  
"And if I say I see the connection, then what, he still could be gay, then there is no way I can 'seduce him to the dark side' as you call it."I say, standing up. Some files on my lap, falling to the floor.  
  
"Call his gay friend and ask him, if you are so worried about it!" He says. He kisses my forehead, and then departs.  
  
"Fine, I will!" I call back at him, and go to the phone. I dial the phone number from memory off of one of the files, I saw.  
  
It rings once. "VCTF, Fraley?"   



	7. ch. 7

Part 7  
Digging through, finding the truth  
  
Author's note: Yes, I am very aware this isn't a Profiler fanfic, and not really meant to be a crossover to begin with, but this is my world, I can do as I please. Bwhahahahaha, no, why am I laughing, I am sorry, it just happened. I would have metioned it before if I knew. I am planning a real crossover and you will be warned ahead of time in the story, unlike this one. Sorry if some people don't like it. And if can't tell by the end. This is from George's Fraley's POV, and this will probably the only time you get his thoughts, in this story.  
  
I don't really like this case, it seems the cases get more violent, and violent. The pictures for this case are hard to stomach, why would anyone want to mutilate a body that way. I guess I should know their would be pictures like this, and people this violent, this is the Violent Crime Task Force. But sometimes, I just go home, and I throw up. The crime scene photos we get sometimes are very disturbing.Rich told me if it disturbs me so much I should get a new job, but Rich doesn't know much. I can't explain to him, how utterly relieving it is when we catch someone. He also, doesn't understand what its like to work with these people, they put in such dedication. This unit hasn't been round long, but we have gone through so much together. We are like a family now. The phone rings I pick it up. "Vctf, Fraley?"  
  
"Bonjour, M. Fraley, Mon nom est Lucé Dé Blackney, ...err..pardon-moi, I forgot sometimes, this is America, I must speak english." I hear a highly accented french female voice say. It sounds fake. I wonder how they got this phone number, as I read the files on my screen.  
  
"Yes, Miss. De Blackney, what can I do for you?" I pick up my coffee cup, to take a sip. Its empty, I'll have to get some more later.  
  
"Umm.. are you a chum of M. Albin Eberts?" I try to picture this woman in my mind, short hair, probably black, brown eyes, -or- very dark, probably from Louisiana where french is influenced greatly, wears designer french wear, giant black hats, and tight fitting black dresses.I can see her in a giant house on the garden district in New Orleans. Wait, she said Chum, not friend, she must be british, I really doubt she is french, she speaks it though. Probably does something that is best done solitary, like painting. She lives far from society, and not in Louisiana, she probably doesn't like louisiana, but she does wear high fashion. So, she probably lives in a small flat somewhere, probably a suburb of London. Okay, So, I am just guessing, I am not a profiler like Sam, but its fun sometimes.  
  
"No, an Albin Eberts, but I do know an Eberts." I try to flag down one of the interns, I want more coffee, and I need the headset, my shoulder is starting to hurt from balancing the phone on it. I switch ears on the phone.  
  
"Oh, Albin, maybe his name is not Albin..." She pauses as if she is reading something. "Albert, that's it, I can't even read my own handwriting. Do you know an Albert Eberts?" The intern starts to approach me, changes his mind, and scurries away, as if he has more important work to do, his sports jacket, which is tied around his waist, flapping between his legs, back towards his computer.Some of them, including that guy always have to act like idiots when I am charge, one day instead of tracking suspects down one day, not long though, I am going to hack into their computers and see what bad things they do on the company computers while they are suppose to be working.  
  
"I do, can I ask why you want to know this." A female intern walking around with a coffee pot, comes to check on my cup, she fills it. I make a motion with my right index finger from the phone going to my mouth. She nods,gives me a quick smile, and scurries away.I pick up my mug, and I take a sip.Good coffee. She needs to fix coffee more often. Its not as bland as some of the other interns make.It actually has a sweet taste to it, but its strong. Almost like Brazillian coffee. I think she likes me, and I am sure I would be hitting on her, in a different life. She is kind of cute though. Maybe one day, I may ask her out, to see if I still like men, -or- if I can be comfortable with women lovers again.  
  
"Well, I am sure you are rather busy, but, is he gay?"  
  
I swallow the coffee hard, almost scalding my throat. What in the world kind of question is that. "WHat?" I wonder where in the world anyone would get that impression about Albie.  
  
"Do you need me to restate?" She asks.  
  
"No, I heard you, but why on earth did you call me to ask me that?" I set the mug down. The intern comes back and hands me the headset, from where I had left it in my office. I really need to start remembering, I have one in their too. I give her a nod. She gives me another smile. I give her a small one in return. She scurries away.  
  
"Ummm..."  
  
"Hold on a second, I need to switch you to my headset."  
  
"Oh, okay." I install the headset, and put it on, and hang up the phone.  
  
"You still there?"  
  
"Yes, I am, and I really hate to disturb you, but I am thinking of hiring M. Eberts for a stock trade, and I want to know if his sexual preference. " I almost chuckle. That's the first time I heard of one of Albie's customers in his home business stock trade ask for his sexual preference. I could understand if, someone in the government, wanted to borrow him from his main job, working for the Official, to maybe ask, but this seems ridculous.  
  
"Well, Miss De. Blackney, This seems very strange to me, but I will tell you, Albert likes Women."  
  
"Does he?" she sounds a bit disappointed.  
  
"Yes, he does, I know for a fact, I have a lot of work to do, so, I have to go, Thanks for calling."   
  
"No,Thank you M. Fraley." We hang up. I almost burst into laughter, but then my eyes catch a glimpse of a crime scene photo on my screen. Well, that was fun, but now its back to work.  
  
  
  
  



	8. ch. 8

Part 8  
Where do they all come from?  
  
The song Eleanor Rigby is playing in my head for some reason. I really like that song, one of the best the Beatles did, but I wonder why its playing in my head. I haven't heard it in weeks.Maybe because it reminds me of a lot of people I know including myself. We are all lonely, here, wandering in our own little worlds, trying hard to let others see what we want them to see.We are have madnesses, many hidden most of the time, except when we look in the mirrors. I told Claire I was tired, because I don't want to go to sleep, and I definetly can not handle more drugs. My whole body is stiff though, but I have a feeling I will die if I have one more thing done to my body. So, I lie here against the cold sheets, and the cruel metal bed, and close my eyes. I want them to pity me for this horror I have been through, but I don't. This unfortunately is one of my madnesses, my split personalities, I am a chameleon, I can blend in with my surroundings, and be like all my other peers. Which unfortunately here, my peers are more inanimate objects. The wall in the official's office, knows more about me than anyone here, except maybe the potted plant in my office. It is probably very silly to talk to plants, but there is no one else to talk to sometimes. The Official always wants me to shut up, I know too much information, and I am too easy to let some of it out, well, he thinks that anyway.I admit sometimes, I do release things, I am not supose to, and I do it, one, so people remember what my voice sounds like, and two, I have this thing about trying to impress people with my knowledge. I know its childish. I feel bad about doing it everytime. I know they don't really want to hear from me.  
  
I haven't truly thought about suicide since college, junior year, when I locked myself in my room, and tried to hang myself. George, who was my roommate then, broke the door down, and pulled me down just in time, so, when I started thinking about it today during the course of our phone conversation, I didn't say anything. He'd race here from Atlanta, and try and talk me out of it. I really don't want to do it, and I can easily be talked out of it, especially by George, who has so much in common with me, but I don't want to be talked out of it by George, I want the people at work to try and do something. They are pretending they care right now for my well being but do they. How long will their concern for poor eberts last, a week, two weeks maybe. Then they will get bored with me, I am not very interesting, to them, probably, I am in Robert's words, "Just a paper pusher," that's all I really want them to see, but I don't in a way. I want to shout out at the top of my lungs, "I am a human being, I have feelings, too, I do not need to be pushed into the wall, because I am not furniture." I am very aware they all have their own problems, as I was aware something was up with George and Rich. I worry for him, Rich keeps mistreating him, he will finally give up men, he already gave up women, when he lost Julie, he will be miserable if he does it. I know he may appear the same smiling George on the outside for a time, but he won't be able to be happy very long.  
  
Claire tries to put a brave front up for everyone, but she has been scared lately. She hides behind her role as the keeper, because she is afraid that blackmailer will come back, and make her pay out money for something that wasn't her fault. She distants herself from everyone though, and keeps herself locked up in that tiny apartment, with Pavlov. I know she hasn't done any singing since we were in high school, and she loved to sing, it was her life, besides science, and it took her away.She is nothing like she used to be, before the blackmail incident. We actually used to talk, though, I couldn't say we were friends, but she treated me, like a human being. She is far more aloof, then she should be. I miss the free spirit, who wanted to save the world, I knew in high school, the one I had a crush on, and still do. I have had so many chances to ask her out, and I should have. I have been living to long lonely, and so has she, she hasn't let anyone get close to her. She is almost the ice queen, especially around Darien, though he has caused her to display feelings I have missed seeing in her. It wouldn't suprise me, if he convinces her to go on a date one day.Right now, though, I think she goes home and cries herself to sleep, -or- at least drowns her sorrow in ice cream.  
  
But Darien has problems of his own. He hates the gland, and would rip it out of his head, if it wouldn't kill him.I wouldn't blame him either. He tries his best to pretend he can live with it, and this agency, but in truth he must hate it. And he doesn't know half the things that goes on. He wants to be free, to be able to do his own thing. He really didn't want to know every aspect of the Keep, which he has to visit every Monday, and I am suprised he doesn't wear long sleeves sometimes. So, he won't be mistaken for a herion addict, with all the track marks on his arm. I think the only real person he trust is Robert, and that is only half the time.  
  
Robert is paranoid. He really wants to trust everyone, but he is too supicous for that. He is on medication that is suppose to cure him, but doesn't really. He is charged overprice for things, and he has a fear of almost everything.Especially the government, and we really don't help much. His van isn't worth the paper the deed is written on. He has to deal with terrorist, people breaking into his apartment, and buging it, and all sorts of other things, usually on a daily basis.I also think he has a thing going for Monroe, but she is always messing with him.  
  
Alex does that because she is insecure. She misses her son.She needs someone in her life, and she can't handle him not being there. She doesn't want anyone to see this weakness though because she is scared, they will think her as weak. So, she hides behind this macho image, that scares people away from her. She also threatens people with information, to get her way, when she really should just ask. She wants to be above the official, but I think deep down she admires him.She will never admit it to his face though.  
  
The Official has problems of his own, he really doesn't like this work anymore. Its been getting harder and harder for him ever since his wife died, and he wishes he could just putter around in his rose garden. He tries, like Monroe, to hide his feelings behind anger. When many times he has told me he was proud of what Darien, -or- Robert did, but couldn't say it to their faces. He is too scared they will get the wrong impression.  
  
Sometimes, I wish I wasn't so damn observant, I guess that is what I get for not talking to anyone. At least I feel a little better, but I hate comparing other people's problems to mine, it always makes me so tired.  
  
(more to come)  
  
  
  



	9. ch. 9

Part 9  
Dreaming, dream, dream, dream, dreaming  
  
I notice Eberts deeply breathing now. He has finally gone to sleep. I wish I knew what he had been thinking. I don't think he was reliving his torture which would good. But something highly tiring to him. He has me worried. I am unsure, if Arnaud will come back and finish him off, and though it seems he is not experiencing major side effects right now, except maybe hostility, I am not sure when he will. I know something is clicking inside his mind, and soon something will have to happen. I know it will because of his hostile behavior, but I am unsure what exactly. Maybe I should have become a psychatrist, then maybe I can figure out what hes going through. I like being a scientist though, its nice figuring out how things work, and how to improve them. I have never been good with people though, and I am so uncomfortable with them, now. Especially after Marshall Braddock, I hate that man, and I hope he is having fun rotting in jail, but to think he so easily made his way into the agency. I am not sure who to trust anymore. There is no telling who has found my secrets, that I have tried so hard to cover up. I worked hard to cover these things up, which weren't my fault, though everyone accuses me of them. Maybe in a way they were my fault, but I do not deserve all the blame and I wish everyone would stop blaming me for them. This is why I hide behind my persona of the keeper, because I may never forget those things, but others can, if they can't find records of them.  
  
I hear the door slide open. I turn to face the person. Its Monroe."How's he doing?" She asks concerned.  
  
"He's sleeping now, and he tells me hes fine, and he doesn't want anymore drugs, but I think hes in a lot of pain mentally and physically.We may still lose him."   
  
"Why would he ask for no drugs then?" Alex questions. I understand her logic behind that. Most people would probably take drugs to forget what happened. They want to go to sleep without fear.  
  
"He said his body couldn't handle anything else, I promised him, I wouldn't give him drugs unless it was absoultly necessary. He needs to try and relax some, he is very tense right now, and he may not be very trusting, we need to get him to know we trust him, and care about him."   
  
She nods. She walks towards him, and gazes down. She bends over carefully and kisses his forehead. "He looks like an angel when he sleeps, " she murmurs, turning back to me. I nod."To think that devil did that to him, Poor Baby."  
  
"Yes, it was horrible...."I think something about this incident hit a nerve with her."How are you doing, Alex?" I ask out of concern.   
  
"Can I sit down?" She asks pointing to a chair, next to his bed. I nod. She picks the chair up, and brings it next to my chair.Her eyes are red as if she has been crying, I think we all have been today. Her voice grows sad as she starts to speak."I'm worried about him, Claire, when I was looking through his files, I found all this stuff I never knew about him. It reminded me of this guy I always dreamed about, and I almost got him killed." Tears start streaming down his eyes. "He's the kind of person, I have always wanted to marry, and I had to be the big hero, and..."  
  
"You almost lost your chance to find out if it could work out?" I ask.   
  
She nods slightly. "I'm lonely, Claire, and Eberts has been right under my nose the whole time at the agency, and ..." She stops a second as she rummages through her pocket for a tissue. I pull a box out from under the cabinet and hand one to her. She takes one. "Thanks."  
  
"I know what you're going through, Alex, I have known him since high school, and I have never really paid much attention to him. I really can't say I know much about him, but after seeing that tape, I knew I had wasted an oppurtunity for a good friendship, and that if he dies, I would really miss him." I feel tears forming in my eyes, but instead of keeping them, I let them flow. I know as well as she how bad it is holding feelings in. Now, is the time to let it out, and if she can cry without holding it, I can cry as well, especially since she appears much stronger than me. I take a tissue, and blow my nose.  
  
"Why is it when you are about to lose things you see how important they are." She says, and she begins to sob. I pat her hand.   
  
"I don't know." I say, unable to stop from sobbing myself. "And I am not sure if he will....::sob::..still be the same sweet eberts that we never noticed." She clutches my hand, tightly, for strength. She looks as if a person about to tumble off a cliff.  
  
"I am so... scared for him,... and now he will probably... always h...h..h..hate ...me, I ....almost... killed ...him."   
  
"I will not." We both hear from behind us. I turn, Eberts is sitting with his eyes open. "Will you two come here for a second."  
  
Alex weakly nods, she releases my hand, and we walk to him.  
  
"What is it, Sweetheart?" I asks, pushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. He sits up stiffly before I can protest. He draws me into a small, yet sweet hug, and leans over a bit and proceeds to give Alex a hug.   
  
"My friend, George, taught me once, that always in times of crisis, you aren't the only victim.So, please stop crying over me like I have died, I will be fine." He gives us a small, pained smile, and I know the hugs must have hurt him, but we couldn't have stopped him from doing it. He wouldn't have listened.  
  
"Okay." Alex says weakly.  
  
Eberts smiles. "Its good I have friends who have as much therapy as me, now, go do some work, because you still have work, -or- at least if you are going to cry please don't do it in here, I am trying to get some sleep." He says, in a manner we can both tell is joking. He reverts to his usual frown, there is something in his eyes though. "Thank you for caring. I really appricate it."  
  
He lays back down and closes his eyes, and we hear his deep breathing before he can hear our answer.  
  
"You're welcome, Albert." Alex murmurs, and kisses his forehead again.  
  
"We wouldn't have it any other way." I say, and kiss his check.  
  
Alex nods.  
  
(more to come)  
  



	10. ch. 10

Part 10  
Don't stand so close to me   
  
  
I need to figure out a tactic to approach Mr. Eberts, whom his friend Fraley claims isn't gay, but I really do not believe that. The women Mr. Eberts dates have nothing in common what so ever.I have studied them as much as I could in this short times, because I do not have the time, -or- the patience to track each girl that he has dated. If I were to do that, it may take too long, and the agency could have sent him to therapy by then, and he would be over any evilness that he may have possessed. Arnaud has informed me, that I need to stike while the iron is hot. Since it only happened yesterday, now would be a good time.  
  
I am going to infitrate my way into the agency, why they are keeping their precious little lackey under lock and key. I think the only reason they keep him around, because the Official is too lazy to train another computer genius to do what ever he is told,and to shut up on command. The security will be easy to work on, they don't do much, just sit their all day.  
  
The biggest problem is he doesn't have a type. Their is not even a common trait in a few of them, they all have various occupations, very body types, and from what it seems various favourites.I don't see how someone who dates a lot of people who have nothing in common. I don't believe he is fishing the field. I have no idea where he found them, I have a feeling a lot of them found him, -or- he would have chosen a type by now if he were the askee.They probably found him in a personal ads. Something that read something like. " Mousy Man looking for date, very shy, desk jockey, who plays video games for free time, watches soap operas, for fun,and is a computer genius.Goes to science fiction conventions on his vacations."It wouldn't suprise me, him using a personal ad, I am sure he can hardly find a date on his own. They were probably all on that bloody American thing, America Online, and they wanted him to fix it where they could really get on the internet, -or- something. It wouldn't suprise me, they would want him for his genius. He really isn't that handsome, he has sort of a puppy dog look to him. Maybe they really aren't women, maybe they are aliens, trying to study the normal human guy. Well, he definetly is not it.I am getting off track. I am trying and trying to see what they see in him. It would help me be easier, if I can find some quality that I find redeemable, but their are none.  
  
I could kill Arnaud sometimes, I can't believe he still believes this a good idea. I don't even know what to do, I can try my damsel in distress act, like my car broke down in front of the agency.I know I have some tight, skimpy, bubbly clothes somewhere.I also would need lots of chewing gum, and find my cherry red lipstick, I think I still have those stupid pencil thin heel boots. I would have to be sure that Eberts comes out, and not Fawkes and/-or- Hobbes, I really do not need to be hit on by either of them. And I would not be happy if that happened.Any way whos to say this Eberts has a car, he probably catches a cab to work. He lives in a house with four other guys, who split the rent. He can't make that much money, working for the government, they do not pay much. They can't, and basically hes just a secretary.  
  
That's it, a mousy secretary. I can easily inflitrate as a secretary, -or- maybe an assisstant to Eberts. I am sure they would want to cut back his work load after his trauma. I can find high heels, some vheaply made business suit, and maybe some hoses with a few runs in them, and some thick glasses. I can easily obtain them, I need them to look especially desparte for a job, and I will fit right in. Its is not like the people at the agency wear designer duds. Would it work though? I really don't want the two stooges to hit on me, so I will have to try my best to turn them off from me. So, for this job, I have to be their worst nightmare, and Eberts dream woman, that might not be as hard as it seems, but Arnaud better have a giant reward for me, for finishing this.   
  
(more to come) 


	11. ch.11

Part 11  
Strange voices are saying, things I can't understand.  
  
I have no idea what time it is, I am not even sure the day. I do believe its not the same day Arnaud eletrocuted me. But I am not even sure if that's the same day, he whipped me. I have felt I slept for a long time, and in the last few days, if it actually has been a few days, I can't entirely be sure, my biological clock has gone on strike, I have. I could have been gone for months, but I doubt that I would have surely been replaced. I am actually suprised I wasn't replaced while I was gone, though they will probably cut my work hours, figuring i can't handle it. I am not sure, maybe I won't be able to handle it. I think I may quit, its not like I really need the money. I could live on the money in the bank, and just work on my paintings, and my stock market brokerage, and I would be able to set tours again for The Ducks. I miss touring with them, but it would take us a while before I can do it, we haven't practiced in months.We have all been so busy lately.   
  
I may run it by them. I don't know if Bennie would go for it, hes having too much fun in the newspaper business. He might not want to go on tour, but maybe we can at least start doing gigs again. I haven't been on a stage in so long, I miss singing in front of people. That is one of the only places I can feel free, I most certainly can not feel free here, where I am smothered, from even speaking most of the time. I sometimes wonder why I even got a job here. I need to get out of this place, maybe not out of the employement yet, but I am getting sick of this building and this bed, I have no idea how long, I have been laying here.It seems I have been here longer than I was with Arnaud. I don't know if its because I am bored out of my mind, -or- what.  
  
I listen for noises in the hallway. I am getting out of here, I have to. I am going to make sure I do not get caught this time. I hear nothing in the hallway. That's good. I pull the IV off slowly, I definetly do not want to be carrying that thing around. I have to make it to the employee lockers first, I have clothes in there. It shouldn't be so hard.I need something to cover up though, as I get in the hallway, maybe they left me something. I look in the drawer besides my bed, to see if they have anything of mine. There is an extra hospital gown in the first drawer, and in the second drawer...what is this, Arnaud returned my belongings, I really doubt they would care to think of getting it on the way out. I slip my boxers on, and my undershirt, then my starched shirt, which has blood stains on the back, I notice, near these little slashes in it. I would laugh, they look like some one had cut them with scissors, but these welts on my back, remind me, it wasn't scissors that did it. I pull my pants on, I wish I can find my jacket. I scan the room, thinking maybe they hung it up. My eyes catch on the bathroom door, its in there. I smile, I crawl painfully off the bed, and head for the door. My feet don't want to move at first, they have not moved in too long, but after a few small stumbling steps, they decide to cooperate. I open the door, when I open it, I see the jacket, I also, realize nature is paging me. I guess its good they hid it in here.  
  
A few minutes later, I am turning on the sink, to wask my hands good. The water hurts my wrists a little, but it feels kind of nice. I make sure my hands are washed good, then I look for something to dry them on, I peer under the sink and throughout the small bathroom. Evil people, no paper towels, what's wrong with them. Then it dawns on me, we had to cut back money for papertowels, because the copier broke again. I hate how little funded this place is. I hear people come into my room. I grimace, they can not force me back in that hospital gown, though my clothes itch, I will not get back in them. Someone taps on the bathroom door. "Eberts!You in there!!!" I hear Claire call.  
  
"I'll be out in a second." I lean against the door. Maybe if I stay here long enough, they will go away.  
  
  
  
  



	12. ch. 12

Part 12  
The wanderer  
  
"I think he's hiding from us." I hear someone say behind me.   
  
I turn towards the voice."Alex, I think I can figure out hes hiding from us, I am sorry about that Miss. Degas, I am sure he would like to meet you, but he has been under a lot of stress." I say to the smaller woman standing next to her. She looks vaguely famillar, but I can't place her. Her long, blond hair looks a bit out of place with her dark complexion, and it may very well be a wig. I frown.   
  
Eberts shouldn't be hiding from us.After the last time when we were both in here, when he was trying to comfort us, you would think he wouldn't want to hide. Maybe he is starting to get effects from the torture, and he doesn't trust us anymore.  
  
"Ooh, oui, je comprehend, I figured that vhen I vas hired so quickly. I have heard it takes years to get accepted to this agency." Miss Degas answers in here German-French voice. It gets a bit on my nerves, it has an almost false ring to it. It has also been a long couple of days. This introduction was only suppose to take a few seconds, but Eberts had already been in the bathroom hiding for twenty minutes, and I still had to check his burns out. Then, I had to go give Darien his shot, he had used too much quicksilver, then he should have throughout the day, it would be the third shot I have given him in a week. Then, I had been allowed to actually go home.  
  
"Sometimes." Alex comments. I hear a tint of sarcasim in her voice. I have to restrain myself from making a comment about people forcing their way into the agency.I need to get home and get some sleep. I am getting cranky. I tap my foot slightly against the lineloum.  
  
I go to the door, and knock on it. "Eberts we know you have your clothes on, and not your hospital gown, and we know you are trying to hide in there, will you please come out, Eberts, sweetheart." I call into the bathroom.  
  
"I guess so." I hear a voice say reluctunately. I back away from the door, a little and the door opens. He peeks his head out and watches us, almost as a little mouse looking for cats. He steps out silently, and closes the door. His suit looks a little worn, we didn't exactly have time to fold it neatly, and put it in the drawers, after we found it on the doorstep, and searched it for any harmful substances. The Official had wanted us just to put it in the drawer no fuss. The only thing that looked clean was his jacket, which I had neatly hanged before the Official had had his fit. Eberts looked worned out himself.  
  
"Why were you hiding from us?" Alex snaps at him. She realizes she had snapped at him then calms herself. "You had us worried, Eberts?"  
  
"I am sorry, I am bored, I need to get out of here, its giving me cabin fever, I need to try to get back to normal, so I can figure out what day it is, and things." He says quietly.  
  
"You will be able to leave as soon as you can, okay, Eberts?" I tell him.  
  
He gives a weak nod. "Okay, can I leave my suit on for awhile, before you force me into that nothing there hospital gown."  
  
"If, you feel comfortable in it, you may keep it on, for now." I tell him. Which means until they leave, which is all I can afford to give him, I would give him longer time if I could, but I know he wants to get home, and the quicker I check his burns, and leave to deal with Darien, and then leave, the quicker it is for him to sneak out, though he doesn't know that though.  
  
He gives me a weak smile. "Thanks." He says softly.  
  
Eberts notices the woman behind me, next to Alex. "Hello."  
  
"Hello, I am Miss Degas, I am your new assistant, Mr. Eberts." She answers in a small voice.  
  
His mouth forms a perfect oval as he answers with a sighing "Oh?"  
  
"Now, that introductions are over, me and Miss Degas will let Claire give you the once over." Alex says and they depart.  
  
Eberts frowns.  
  
"I am sorry, I do have to check your burns, and apply new ointment if necessary, and after I do that,and give Darien his shot, it means I can go home." I say, trying to get him to catch the drift of where I am going.  
  
"Oh? That's nice they let you go home." He takes off his jacket slowly.  
  
"Yes, and they are having Nicolas watch you while I am gone."  
  
He starts to painfully unbutton his shirt. Then, he looks up, " Denise Nicolas?" he asks,a small smile forming on his face. He knows who Denise Nicolas is, she is one of my assistants, related to someone higher up, but not very observant.  
  
"Yes,"  
  
"Did you arrange that?"  
  
"Yes, I did." I give him a smile.   
  
He pulls me into a big hug, "I love you, Claire." It feels nice in his arms, and I am reluctant to pull away.  
  
"I know, Albert." I give him another smile.  
  
"Now, I am going to leave the room, so you can get back into your hospital gown, and then, I 'll check you out. I suggest you put your suit somewhere, where you can easily reach it, and where no one can see it." I say and step into the hallway.  
  
"I will." he says softly, as the door closes.  
  
(more to come)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	13. ch. 13

Part 13  
Le Petit Souris's dream woman, I hope.  
  
I really hate blondes, and that I stooped so low, as to disguise myself as one is nervewrecking. What was I thinking, I look hiddeous. I do look nerdish though, and I do not in anyway resemble my original self, which is what I was going for, we can't have that, especially after they took me into custody.Tomorrow, I get to start my duties as Miss Degas, well that is what that prick the Official tells me. It seems Mr. Eberts has escaped for now. So, what do I get to do, I get to sit in his office, and wait see if they can find him, and if he isn't back by 9pm, I get to go home, and come back, if he does get back by nine, I get to begin my duties.  
  
This is really the most awful office I have ever seen, how can someone work in this shoe box. I need my cigarettes, I check my pockets for them. I can't believe I left them again. I must be losing my mind.I hear footsteps approaching, the office. I listen.  
  
"We have no cases, why did I have to come back?" I hear the little mouse answer.  
  
"Shut up, Eberts." I hear the Official say.The door opens and they walk in.Eberts a frown on his face, wearing a white smock, covered in spots of red, and saffron, and azure, and forest green, with black pants.He looks out of place, and their is something about him that seems strange now, like he had changed forms, and refuses to go back to the pencil pusher form. The Official looks his usual "Do I care," self. "I trust you already met your new assistant." The Official says and walks out. Its noon now, they didn't waste much time to bring him back after the Keeper had left at eleven thirty, he had escaped shortly after that.  
  
"Hello, Miss Degas, how are you, today?" He says quietly, and with a little bit of hostility, which I can tell is not for me, but having to be dragged back to work.  
  
"I am okay, Mr. Eberts." I say with a fake nervousness act.  
  
"Look, call me Ebees, since you are my assisstant, and what may I call you, since I do not think Miss Degas is your name, but if you prefer I can call you that." He gives me a supicious look.  
  
"Vhat do you mean?" I ask, I give him an innocent stunned looked. How did he figure that out, he is not that smart.  
  
He shakes his head, "Never mind, its been a long week, I am very untrusting at the moment."Good, good, he is ignoring it. He is under too much stress. He didn't really supect anything. Maybe he did and he just is playing it up. I hope not then I have to think of a new plan.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Let's go for a walk, I will give you the grand tour, and explain what your duties as my assistant will be."   
  
I nod. He is not showing one sign of being attracted by me, and I do not like that one bit. Maybe, he is too much of a gentleman to hit on me, right now, but he needs to do it soon, -or- they could give him treatment, before the plan is able to work.  
  
(more to come)  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. ch. 14

Part 14  
Jumping to conclusions.  
  
I know I shouldn't have made that comment about Miss Degas being someone else, but that is how I hide my desires when I want to sleep with someone. Paranoia. Okay, maybe, I am sure at another time, if I wasn't sore from head to foot, I might have instead of suggested a walk, locked the door to my office. Okay, I would have suggested a walk, I have gotten slapped too many times, to pull a stunt like locking the office door, and pull her into a passionate kiss. I can't be that impulsive, but damn it, it has been so long since I have kissed a woman, its not entirely my fault, women just don't seem to understand me, and sometimes it drives me up the wall. They don't really try, all they have to do is drop the mouse image they have of me, and they will be able to see. Miss Degas doesn't really seem like she would appricate that much. I doubt if she has ever even been kissed. She's kind of funny looking in a way, with her thick glasses, and cardigan, and knee socks, almost like a school girl. She has a nice accent though, though in a haunting way it reminds me of De Fohn. That whole German/French thing, which is exactly the types of girls I encountered when I visited Switzerland.  
  
Bloody hell, I am going to curse myself for the rest of eternity if I don't do anything. She is not saying anything to me. "Why don't we go out to lunch, I am hungry, what about you?" Good move, Albert, you sound like a dork. Damn, it, I am very good with words, except my lack of words actually able to use, leaves me sounding very stupid sometimes.  
  
"I am not really hungry, but I could use a cigarette, if you don't mind if I smoke while you eat." She says very softly.  
  
"No, I don't mind." Damn it, I am lying to her, I hate the smell of cigarette smoke, but she probably won't intinatially blow it in my directions.  
  
She appears to remember something, "Oh, I just realized I am out, could you swing me by a convience store."  
  
"Sure, why not." I hate convience stores, too. I am getting deseparate. I am such a geek. Just agree to everything she says, good one Moron.  
  
"I am not a good driver, here, vould...vould you drive, Mr. Eberts." She asks.  
  
"Please, I ask you not to call me that, call me Ebbies, -or- Albie, no Mr. stuff okay, that's my father." I give a weak laugh. She doesn't even crack a smile. "I can drive."  
  
We walk in silence for a while, as we walk to the parking lot.The silence is akward. I wish I had my Astin-Martin here, it might impress her, but unfortunately its in the shop. Maybe she will like my little toyota though, very intimate. What am I thinking? I am losing my head. I open the door for her, and get in on the other side. Before, I can put the key in the ignition, she's kissing me. Well, I lucked out. I smile mentally, and kiss her back with a passion.  
  
(more to come)  
  
  
  



	15. ch. 15

Part 15  
Birds fly over the rainbow.  
  
The passion eminating from his lips suprises me, and I find myself slowly losing control to hold up my facade. Why hasn't he been snapped up, if he can put so much passion behind a kiss? Damn, Lucrezia, get a grip, you are on assignment, you can't drop you're persona, though you feel it dropping quickly. What in the world have I started? Eberts is almost like a walking firecracker of passion, and I have let him off, is it possible thatI have striked while the iron is too hot? I feel the Miss Degas mask slip, and I struggle to gain control. I have to force myself to tense up to stop the wave of emotions, he is sending corsing down my body. I am not sure if its intinial -or- not. I am about to push away from him.  
  
He pulls away,instead, so we can both take a breath, and we lay panting for oxygen against our respective seats.My head is spinning, and I haven't felt such high euphiora since the one time I tried Herion. If he can do that which just one kiss, why hasn't he been snapped up, yet.I have never felt such passion, such spunk in just one kiss, and it didn't even last that long.I need to compose myself, its a little hard though, with the world revolving. I reach for the car door handle, I need to get out before something slips, and the plan is broken before it should be. I need to get him to trust me, I can't let this slip.  
  
"You should probably leave anyway, " he says to me. I turn to him, and catch a spark of something fading from his eyes.  
  
What is he talking about? Is he on to me? Did he pick that up from that kiss."Pardon, Monsieur?" I hear it in my voice, that my accent is not entirely the same as before, it is only slight, maybe he didn't catch it. It sounds too french instead of too german as before.  
  
"I don't know who you are, but I doubt, your name is Miss Degas anything, and I am sure there probably never was a Miss Degas. I don't even think you are a blond. Maybe you work with Arnaud, but it would be best if you leave, and I will not turn you in, when we find out who you really are later?" He says soft, and gently. It almost makes me cry, it touches something in me, I have never felt, almost maternial. I shrink mentally, what sort of games is he playing with me. How is he doing this?  
  
With the intense wave of passion, still raging inside, I curse myself mentally, and take a deep breath. This is a role, I have to finish the role. I can't drop my shields completely. I have to pretend that the kiss didn't happen, I have to pick up where I left off in the script, which has obviously just been revised. "Vhat, I do not comprehend this, Mr.....err...Ebees." I say barely audible, but with all parts of the accent corrected.  
  
"You aren't Miss Degas are you, I would have caught it sooner -or- later, especially since I am in charge of background checks.And I am sure the loving official left for me to do."  
  
I stare at him, through the thick glasses, that are beginning to hurt my eyes. "Vhat, vhy vould you..."He pulls me into another kiss, that throws me totally off guard, and I scramble to keep my mental barriers up, as I feel them one by one drop rapidly. I feel his arms wrap around me, and I feel my mind slowly blanking out. He pulls away from me.  
  
"Do you work for Arnaud, to bring me back so he can torture me more?" He asks, softly, yet firmly.  
  
Arnaud is going to kill me for this, but if I lie to Eberts he will know, bloody hell, I am definetly losing it. Is now a good time to ask him about the propisition? I bit my lip, and feel myself start to tremble a little, my blood has suddenly run cold, I am not sure what to do, and I know I am not afraid of this mousy man, okay, I won't lie to myself, I am afraid in a way. How in the world did he get the power to have people drop their shields like that? I take a deep breath. "Do you want the truth?"Maybe he will just agree to it, and it would be easier on us both.  
  
"That would be helpful. Unless, you want to see what I can extract from you, if we have sex." He gives me a small smile. He is trying to get a smile out of me, I think.  
  
"He doesn't want to torture you anymore." I tell him truthfully.  
  
"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow.  
  
" He wants to make you a partner."   
  
He gives me a blank stare. "A partner?"  
  
I sigh, for someone who is suppose to be so intelligent, he is starting to annoy me. Do I really have to spell it out for him. "He feels you have potential to help the organization in many ways."  
  
He bursts into laughter.  
  
This angers me for some reason. "That was not a joke, Mr. Eberts!"  
  
"I know that, I am sorry for laughing, please forgive me, and call me Ebees, so, what are the fringes benefits of this partnership?"  
  
(more to come)  
  
  
  
  



	16. ch. 16

Part 16  
Call me in the morning.  
  
After she gives me a number to call in the morning, so, I can discuss the details with Arnaud, she gets out of the car before I can stop her. I frown a little. I guess it could have gone worse. I step out of the car,(It smells like a storm is about to hit. Its good in a way, we need the rain.) looking for her, but with the sun glaring in my eyes, I am unsure which way she went. Well, there goes my assisstant. I don't really need one anyway. But the Official is not going to like this.I can't believe I just did that, I actually considered joining the other side. Though its not like you can tell which side we are on sometimes, I suppose it could be worse. I don't actually have to call, and if they want me so bad, I seriously doubt they will try to torture me again. I hear rain starting outside.   
  
They can't do anything if I don't call, and if I decide to go into hiding, from both places, they will never find me. I can George help me locate hide my trail. That's what I should do, get a new identity and start over. I am getting tired of this all. I think I will just go get lunch first. I am really hungry, and I don't know the last time I ate a real meal, and not snack food. The Official really can't make me work, there is nothing to do. We have no cases, I don't think we do anyway, I do remember something about the FBI sending something over, but I am sure they wrapped it up before I got their. So, I can take a little vacation.The only reason I was called in they said was to show my assistant the ropes. I smile at this. I climb back in the car, and pull my sunglasses out of the glove box. I reach over and close the passenger door, and then I sit straight, closing my door, buckling up, and putting the key in the ignition. The rain begins to fall harder, pounding a nice rhythm into the hood, and roof. Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter.  
  
I know this great little cafe I can go to, and no one will bother me. I can eat in peace,not get wet, and formulate, "Operation: unburdened mouse." I laugh that has a nice ring to it. I start to pull away, when I notice someone running through the parking lot trying to stay dry. I beep my horn. She comes running to the car, I roll down my window. "Where are you off to Monroe?"  
  
"Out to lunch, but my cars in the garage down the street." She says frowning.   
  
"Why don't you have lunch, with me, and you won't have to get any wetter running to your car, unless you want me to drive you to your car." I ask. She is shivering in that tiny blue skirt, with white shirt, though she is trying to hide it.  
  
"I would like to have lunch, then I wouldn't have to drive, I'm not really in a driving mood, that is if its not any trouble."   
  
"No trouble, hop in." She runs around to the other side and gets in. I reach behind the seat, and pull a blanket off the floorboard.  
  
She sits shivering against the seat, I hand it to her, and she doesn't say anything, but gives me a nod of thanks, taking it. She wraps herself in it, and we pull out of the lot.  
  
The rain continues its drum rendition. I roll up the window, so it doesn't rain on her, since it has started to rain sideways. "Thank you for the ride, I hope its messing up any schedule you had." She says gazing out the window. I notice her, peeking over and checking out my painting outfit, which I hadn't had time to change from, when The Official made me leave.  
  
"No, the only reason, I got called in, was to show my assistant the ropes, and she kind of skipped out." I tell her. I try and make eye contact, but she shifts away.  
  
"Why did she leave, I thought she was so eager about working here?" She questions.  
  
I laugh. "How many people do you know who are anxious to work at the... nevermind." I say, retracting my comment remembering she HAD forced her way into the agency.  
  
"You have every reason to laugh, it is true, no one really wants to work at the agency, but after a while, it ...grows on you." She says, catching my gaze. She gives me a small smile.  
  
I give her a small smile back.  
  
(more to come)  



	17. ch. 17

Part 17  
Peace, Peace, Mind in the fifth dimension  
  
"So, he is going to call?" Arnaud asks me, taking a sip of his martini.  
  
"Didn't I say he would call? Why do you doubt me?" I swear I could strangle him sometimes, where does he get off questioning me. Bloody hell, if he knew the effect that little mouse had on me he would keep his mouth shut. He should be glad, I was actually able to tell Eberts, and not have that mouse get it out of me with another one of those steaming kisses, -or- through intercourse, like he had suggested. Though I have a feeling he would not have forced me into anything. Though it may.... I can't even start thinking that way, I will ruin everything.  
  
"Yes, you did say that, but it suprises me you were able to work so quickly, you seemed to be having so much trouble trying to figure out his type, and concerning yourself, with whether he was a fairy -or- not . How did you accomplish it so quickly." He asks, giving me a curious look.  
  
"It was the old De Vere charm." I say, throwing a charming smile onto my face. How can I tell him that Eberts got it out of me, and that really I did nothing at all. Someone finding that out will ruin my reputation.  
I, especially, do not need my reputation as being one of the best tarnished, and I will most certainly not have it even slightly dulled in anyway with Arnaud. He needs to always see we are equals, and he cannot control me. I will not have him in anyway trying to control me. He may think he does sometimes, but he in no way will ever control me. I will always have some say in everything.  
  
"Ahh, I see. I don't think it was just that, if I hadn't have gotten him vulernable through the torture you may not have been able to break into his pathetic little psyche." He says with a grin.  
  
"What makes you so sure about that?" I glare at him.  
  
"Fine, maybe you are right, maybe you convinced him fully." He grins again. He is up to something and I do not like it. I do not like it one bit."So, what time did you tell him to call me?"  
  
"In the morning at his convience." I give him a smile, I know he will not be happy with this, as it is likely Eberts will call him really early and wake him up.  
  
"You left him in charge of when to call, why on Earth would you do that?" He frowns.   
  
"To show him we trust him."   
  
"We don't trust him completely though!!! He needs to know I am in charge, not him!!! Damn Lucrezia, you should always give them a specific time to call!!!" I could almost laugh at his damaged ego. I think I will let him dig himself a little farther in this hole first.  
  
"Did you say you were in control?"   
  
"I meant, we are in control." He comes towards me, trying to pull me into an embrace. "It was a slip of the tongue, darling."  
  
"Well I don't appricate it, I am going to my room." I storm out of the room.  
  
"Lucrezia!!!" He calls after me.  
  
I chuckle mentally, I am not really mad at him, I just want to make him apologize. He is very hard at doing that sometimes. But it is always fun to see what he does to show me he loves me. Maybe he will blow up the white house, -or- something for me this time. I am sure it will probably be better than when he killed that House of Lords representitve for me, last time.  
  
Right now, though, I really need to go have a cigarette.  
  
(more to come) 


	18. ch. 18

Part 18  
In the Jingle Jangle Morning, I'll come following you  
  
She sips her fruit juice in small, delibrate sips. "You know I never really learned much about you, what do you like to do for fun?" She says coyly.Her Hazel eyes lighting up a little. It amuses me in a way, but I am too much of a gentleman to laugh. It seems so innocent, as if we had only just met, which was not exactly true. She seems a bit high-strung. I wonder what's up. Maybe she will tell me.  
  
"I paint, mostly, and sing with this little Jazz band I am in. Well, that is when I have the time. I am also a very good battleship player." I say, I do not want to sound boastful, because I am not really boastful, but in a way I want to impress her.I can't be sure, if shes playing with me though, she is a master at CTS, and acting.   
  
"I have always been an art lover.What do you paint?" She takes another small sip of the fruit juice. I take a sip of my coffee. She gives me a small smile. The waiter will be back soon to see if we are ready for our orders, I see him watching us, boredly. I should call George up, and tell him I have found a duck for him. He would find that highly amusing. Maybe, if I hadn't picked up Alex, I may have.  
  
"All kinds of things." I say, giving her a secretive smile. I figure, she already knows all this, since she probably was the one who was suppose to come find me. Maybe, she became attracted to me, by my files. That would be extremelly amusing. I mean, there has to be some reason she rushed in to save my life, at Arnaud's complex. I think its cute that she is trying to get to know me.   
  
"Like what?" She asks, with curiosity, that seems a bit fake, but in a way, I think she wants to know my answer.  
  
"Well...Right now, I am doing this series called "As the Papers fall." They are potraits of stacks of papers." I say, false seriousness etched all over my voice. I give her a smile.  
  
"Really, why on Earth would you do that?" I look deep into her hazel eyes, she thinks I am serious. She didn't catch the smile, shes nervous, her eyes keep shifting, but why is she nervous.  
  
I laugh. "No. Why would I do that? Where's your sense of humour, Monroe....I'm sorry, Can I call you Alex...Monroe sounds so formal."  
  
She smiles. "Well, I have been working with Fawkes and Hobbes so much, and you know they can't tell jokes that often straight faced. One of them always cracks up, -or- is confused." Her eyes shift again. She then gives me a small smile. "Sure, you can call me, Alex, we are friends right?"  
  
"Sure....Am I making you nervous?" I ask, catching her gaze.  
  
She gives a small titter. "Why would I be nervous of you?"  
  
"Why wouldn't you be?" I asks, mainly as a joke.  
  
She grins. "I am nervous in a way, I read your files, and..."  
  
I raise an eyebrow. I see the waiter start to come over with the menus. "And?"  
  
"And...Well, ...I don't know how to say this....I really liked what I saw. I mean it seems you were the type of guy I always wanted to date, and I feel guilty for not really talking to you before."  
  
This throws me off guard for a little. "Really?" This is interesting, very, very interesting.   
  
She nods.   
  
(more to come) 


	19. ch. 19

part 19  
Full Circle  
  
He dido call, that little mouse did not call. Damn, it, I should have gone in their myself. I can't believe I trusted Lucy to do it, she probably botched it up. I heard her talking in her sleep, calling out that little mouse's name. So, what I am assuming, is he somehow got her to blow her cover.  
  
A situation where he was in charge. He never should be in that position, that is why he is a measly little paper pusher, because he doesn't need power. I can't believe I even thought he would be a good operative. Little egotistical mouse, he probably is plotting to take over the agency as we speak. I believe I hate him now more than I do Fawkes. Little Prick. How dare he not call me, how dare I be in a position where I have to wait for him. I do not need him. Little punk. I should have killed him when I had the chance, and I had the chance, long before I sent the little torture tape to Borden, but damn it. I had to gloat, not that their is anything wrong with gloating. I forget sometimes, I am a terrorist, and terrorist never trust people.   
  
I don't really need the agency, but I will strike them back for all this crap. I am an invisible man.I don't really need their files, I never realised before the possibilities I have. I could conquer the world, and I don't even need that fake latex skin. I don't even need a visible person to help me. I can be a dark menace, unseen, and totally dangerous. The agency will be brought down by me, just because they need to be. They really have no power. I don't need them, I just could have lots of fun with them. I don't need Eberts, I don't even need Fawkes. I can just rule over them. Place them in terror, for the rest of their lives, for trying to overtake me, and mess up my plans. They deserve that. They will cower every time, they even think of the name Arnaud. I am far more powerful than them, no matter how many people they put against me. I am the music maker, the dreamer of dreams, I will be their god. Wait, not their god, but their devil, the one who torments them for their sins. I will stab them with my mighty invisible pitchfork, and make them regret ever being born. I don't need them.   
  
I am free, I don't need anyone. I will survive, and I will conquer!That stupid little mouse, believing it would hurt me if he didn't call. Bwhahaha!!!! He has just gained my wrath, before he was just a pawn in my game, but now, he, and Fawkes, and that stupid Official are my puppets. Maybe not right now, but soon, I will convert them to the wood they were made out of, and like the little puppets in Pincchio, they will dance for me, for my amusement, and I will rule them with only one command. "DANCE, PUPPETS, DANCE!!!!!"And they will not be able to do anything about it, because I will rule over them, and they will pledge their allegiance to me.  
  
I turn on the radio, and almost laugh as a Monkeys song came on.   
  
"I could ride 'neath the wings,   
Of the bluebird as she sings,   
The six o'clock alarm would never ring,   
But it rings and I rise,   
Wipe the sleep out of my eyes,  
The shaving razor's cold,   
And it stings."  
  
I laugh happily, the last few days have come full circle, and it all revolves around me.  
  
The End (-or- is it?) 


End file.
